Mauvais Quart D'heure
by Striped-Tie
Summary: After the Russian Umbrella Facility is taken down, a tip off leads Operative Jill Valentine to an old apartment building. Determined to capture the fugitive, she steps into a world that begs a question - Is the Spiritual more dangerous than the Physical?
1. Jill: Prologue

A/N;

Blame a dream for this one.

The 'first chapter' will actually have a bit more info in the Author Notes. Just hang with me for a bit, okay?

Resident Evil = Not Mine.

* * *

_The edges of hell know no bounds. Whether figurative, or literal. It is always fond of luring in the unsuspecting, or those that seem to savour the danger that it offers to them, regardless of their minds and souls._

"Reliable sources have told us that our suspect name is Aaron Moore. Although we are unsure of his rank within Umbrella, there is a high chance that he is both a threat as well as involved in some terrible incidents over the recent years."

_Umbrella was responsible for one incident after another. No matter what name they were to deem themselves with afterwards, their filth created one catastrophe after another. Regardless of how many facilities were destroyed, even worse scenarios would soon play out._

The lights were dim, a few flickering above the table. Few people occupied the chairs, only those trusted with the seeming important information. All looked serious, not willing to make any jokes about the situation. Everything had started to escalate since Russia – Panic of the people, worry for what was to come, the determination to put it to an end.

_No such thing as a safe haven would exist as long as such menacing intentions still roamed, no matter where in the world. To give up now would be to bow down to the enemy and welcome death._

"Where does the information lead us to?"

Jill Valentine tapped her fingers lightly on the table as she asked, refraining for taking her gaze away from the one announcing the news. Whether it was good news or bad news, only time and action would tell. For far too long she herself had been fighting, and despite her readiness to take the next obstacle, part of her begged for release from the endless battle.

_Once again, hell opens its doors to the living – Beckoning in one of the patrons so accustom to being drawn in. One trial met and conquered, only to leave another with an unwelcomed challenge._

The young woman ran her tongue over her dry lips, listening intently for the coordination. She palms rested flat on the table top as she thought over the information – Her mind crafted a mental image of the area, faint memories beginning to rise.

She had visited that area as a child with her father. Briefly, but street names and traffic lights were carved into her mind. She had no way of repeating the names, for as soon as she concentrated enough to do so they would slip from her grasp. It was an endless chase for peace of mind, a failed attempt for some clarity.

"I'll head out for the destination at twenty-one hundred hours."

_What keeps people coming back? What keeps actions being repeated, again and again with the same outcomes of horror and despair, simply for gain? Questions repeated and repeated continue to be unanswered. If you were asked for help, would you respond of give the finishing blow? _

"You can't do this alone, Jill. I won't let you."

His fingers had weaved with hers on the desk, holding on tightly as if it would help convince her to rethink her statement. She glanced at him, staring into his blue eyes, concerned by the odd worry he had for her which she could never understand properly.

"If there's more than one person, the mission could be compromised, Chris. I _can't_ let that happen."

She had stated it sternly, only worrying her partner further. The man's overprotective nature was somewhat of a legend within the Anti-Biohazard group, and it had been demonstrated a number of times.

_Be it their fault, nay, the fault of man kind. The bonds that keep those, both fighting and both fleeing, seem to grow ever tighter around the necks of those captured. Kept in places, escape to rest is a luxury met by few whom have met their ends, in such ways as these…_

Chairs were shifted, pages of notes were piled and straightened up, packed back into suitcases or placed delicately back into folders. The orders were clear, all precautions were arranged. One man was to their await capture, but run-ins with Umbrella left warnings stabbed into all those whom had come into contact with them – Always be on guard. Expect the worst.

_The reeking stench of death, decayed flesh and the sole longing to ease hunger. When one is so used to putting beings of that nature out of their misery, how does one respond for another being, once human, wishing for escape?_

"So… You're really going?"

She nodded, before tapping the radio on her shoulder. She gave him a half-hearted smile, trying to set her friend at ease. He would make himself sick if he continued on like that.

"I'll be fine, Chris." She stated, her voice softer by a few fractions. She could practically feel the larger man's unease. She turned and shook her head, before giving him a firm pat on the back. "Promise."

He smiled faintly, knowing no reason not to believe her. The two had been through so many troubles over the years, so many hardships. His care for her seemed to partially arise from his fear of losing one of the only other survivors – Someone he himself had a strong connection with.

_When you hold the key of freedom, will you see it? Will you be willing to use it on those who have waited for so long?_

Her steps were staggered, forced yet unheard. The climate would not allow itself to be pushed in the backseat for the mere footsteps of a determined woman. The skies above cried and screamed, escaping rain darkening the footpath and roads of the dying town.

A soft light illuminated her back, for only a few seconds as a motor continued to run, pushing the vehicle further into the night. She blinked back the rain, looking at the large building in front of her. A building uninhibited, lost, but not yet forgotten. The rumours that continued to stemmed from it, striking those whom heard with a nervous response, who usually brushed it off with some figure of humour.

"From one creepy living space to the next… Will this ever end?"

_No-one so down to earth would expect what was inside._


	2. Jill: Snapshots

A/N;

I think this chapter will really explain what the hell you're meant to expect from this. I know the prologue and the description of the story really don't explain anything but - … It's kinda complicated, you know?

This whole idea came from a dream, though mind you, it was Chris instead of Jill in my dream. For some reason Jill was in disguise and being referred to by 'Augustus'… Probably a good idea I decided to switch things around.

Had the dream about two days ago. Usually I wake up, forget, and go on. But something about this one just really interested me. Basically, this chapter is what I dreamed. I went out the day I had the dream to pick up some things. I had a nice chance to maul over it, and was thinking about it for my 1-2 hour walk and bus rides.

So, read this chapter and decide if you want to actually take interest in this. I know it's quite different from what I usually write.

Well, enjoy if this is your type of thing.

Resident Evil – Not mine.

* * *

The rain only continued to pick up, pelting down on the world below. The full moon above could barely be seen, constantly dipping behind clouds and emerging for mere seconds afterwards. Little light made it past the angered clouds above, making the only source of light belong to the few passing cars, and the minimal working street lights.

The rate of the rain made it appear as if the streets were clouded in mist rather than rain, making it dear impossible for anyone to see anything without some for of goggles. And good ones, at that.

Jill gazed up at the large, beckoning building. The lightning that seemed to strike behind it did very little to unnerve her – It could struck behind a cute little cottage and have the same menacing effect.

She tapped a finger against the orange frames of the snow goggles that hadn't budged from above her eyes. If the surprisingly violent weather hadn't taken her so off guard, no doubt she would have remembered to slip them over her eyes. She figured, by now, there was very little relevance in doing so. Her hair was already beginning to get damp, despite the hood she wore, and her eyes would remain red from the vein efforts to fight the water splashing down.

"Just my luck…"

Her tone was bitter, filled with her distaste for the rain. She hated it as much as it apparently hated her, especially on nights such as this. How was she meant to go about undetected when her attire seemed soaked through?

Her combat boots brought up some of the rain with each step, spraying up to hit her already soaked pants. She couldn't be more thankful for her decision to tuck the bottoms into her boots, or else they would no doubt be slipping around in the building, making it both difficult to remain quiet, as well as move in general.

Her jacket was heavy – Both the two she wore in an attempt to stay warm – Seeming to collect more water than it repelled from her. She mumbled quietly, shaking one hand in an attempt to shake water from the fabric. Whatever managed to fall away was soon back, twice the amount of what she had managed to shake free. At least she could be thankful her shoulders remained dried – The padding on her joints seemed both sufficient for comfort as well as avoiding the mess. It was odd to her, how it seemed to fail to do its job, considering it was a very similar uniform to the one which she had worn in Russia.

Tired of the horrendous weather, she picked up the pace, springing up the stairs to the apartment's entrance quite quickly. She gasped loudly, grabbing the railing quickly as she felt her feet slip on the wet stones. She quickly caught her breath, thankful that she had her gun tucked away in a warm spot in her clothing.

"Sweet Jesus… Someone could break their neck on these stairs…"

She staggered to the top, grabbing the door handle as if her life depended on it. Something about those stairs gave her an uneasy feeling, and she couldn't get inside fast enough.

The handle was fold, no doubt from the weather outside. As soon as her fingers had touched it, a shiver ran down her spine. This once again filled her with somewhat more unease, which she simply blamed on the weather.

"… Feels like someone just walked over my grave."

Rain flooded into the hall as Jill pushed her way roughly inside, slamming the door behind her and resting her back against it. She breathed heavily, hit by dry air as soon as she had entered.

The inside of the building was decrepit. The walls showed evidence of once having either wallpaper or paint along them, which had obviously begun to peel and twist away from where it had been placed. The floorboards were dusting and beginning to splinter, large holes beginning to cave in certain areas. The entrance was quite large, a fair bit of walking space before the stairs a few metres ahead. To the left Jill spied an elevator, and to the right, a large set of pigeonholes. Each had a tenant names above them, one or two had stray letters remaining in them. Beside the set seemed to be what looked like a rubbish chute – Considering the state of the area, Jill had no intention of looking inside of it.

"Stairs, or Elevator?" She mused, a slight smile on her face. "That's a no brainer."

She knew she had to act quickly, but she could barely move. A puddle was forming underneath her, constructed of the excess rain running off of her as well as dripping out of her clothing. She brought her hand up to unzip her jacket, but was quickly reminded about the scarf she happened to be wearing.

It appeared to do the best job other than her boots. Her neck was warm, dry, even though the woolen fabric seemed just as damp as her hair. She moved the hood down from over her head, slipping her fingers under the scarf and slowly doing the zip down, hoping not to get it caught or stuck from the dratted rain.

She threw it to the ground beside the door, the fabric bunching up and sounding as it if itself had landed in a puddle. She cared very little for it – Not wanting to look at it again for a long while. She would retrieve it in the morning, just as she would with the next jacket she stripped off.

She sighed happily, noticing that her final, somewhat finer jacket under the second was quite dry. She was soon snapped out of this, having realised that she couldn't simply strip her wet pants off in the same manner. She would just have to deal with it and hopefully dry off with movement.

She tip-toed over to the elevator doors, hoping to make up for the loudness of her entry, before tapping the up button a few times. There was a few soft dings of the elevator moving, and Jill looked p to watch the lights quietly.

_Come on, come on. Hurry up. I've wasted enough time as it is… I don't feel like getting home at Five in the morning!_

One final ding sounded and the doors opened up, but not before giving a few agonized scrapping sounds – Emphasizing the fact that the transport hadn't been used in years. She gave a final smile, an taunting farewell to the room as she went to take a step in.

"Jesus _Christ!!_"

She quickly grabbed the doors of the elevators, one foot just tittering between the edge of the elevator, and the deep drop below. She looked down, a gapping hole welcoming her to step down. There was no elevator waiting, and the broken rope waving in the cold air of the chasm made it apparent there hadn't been one in a long time, either.

She managed to throw herself back, landing on her backside on the ground. She swallowed hard, still looking at the opened doors. How had she not seen that one coming? It was something that happened in a lot of horror movies.

She scoffed.

This was no horror movie, this wasn't even a B-Rated movie. This was simply a job she had to get done. She mumbled, getting up and dusting herself off. She clicked another button beside the panel, and the vacant doors soon closed, trapping the breeze inside the empty walls. She would have to take on the stairs.

She shrugged indifferently, placing a hand over her stomach. She felt like she could use the exercise, after all. She wasn't as active as she could have been of late.

She ignored the discomfort of her pants once again as she walked over to the stairs, quietly going up one step after another. She glanced back the way she had come after a few moments, as if expecting something to drop out.

Considering this was someone from Umbrella, it wouldn't surprise her if one of those reptilian monsters suddenly burst out of the vacant elevator space. Just as she looked forward again, she slammed into something.

She just managed to save herself from tumbling down the stairs, taking a few steps back down and looking wide eyes in front. There was a security door of some sort, similar to the ones she had seen being pulled down when stores were closing for the day. She slipped her fingers between some of the bars, gripping onto them tightly and shaking them, hard. There was a loud rattle, but other than pulling her forward as she pulled back, it gave no other movements.

She shook it harder, this time only due to the annoyance that it caused her, before slamming a palm against it. It raised another rattle, and refrained from anything else. She glared at it, wondering how the fugitive had gotten passed it to begin with.

Then she spied it.

Staring right back at her was a lock. There was clearly no way that it was going to move without being unlocked first, almost as if it was simply staying still to pissed the woman off.

"You." She hissed, pointing at the lock with an even sharper glare, "I'll be back to get you. There must be a key around here somewhere."

She sulked back down the stairs, muttering less than pleasant words under her breath. A key? Perhaps one of the empty rooms would have one lying around. It was doubtful the old tenants would ever be pleased with such an arrangement otherwise.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she took a slow glance around. To the side of the stairs were doors – Two on its left, one on its right, and what would appear to be a cleaning closet beside that. She strolled over to one of the doors, shaking the handle.

Just like the gate-like door above, it refused to move. However, Ms. Valentine wanted in, and she wanted in there and then. She raised her shoulder slightly, slamming her side into the door with much force, trying to knock it through. It didn't make a dent.

Taking a step back, she repeated the process, ramming into it with even more force. The door, bent back slightly, but remained stead fast otherwise and sent Jill back the way she had come, landing on her side.

"… Fine. Alright. I'll see what's behind door B…"

She rose from to her feet, rubbing the side of her shoulder as she staggered over to the next door, cautiously placing her hand on the doorknob. Just like the other door, it gave little more than a jiggle and heeded to no push. She growled, not feeling keen on going through the motions again. She walked to the opposite set of doors, feeling rather lost with the whole thing. These were old doors – They were cracking, and seemed to splinter in the same way the floors were. Why wouldn't they open? Was she losing her touch?

The doorknob once again gave a jiggle, but to her surprise, it opened with a loud creak. Her lips parted, unable to find words for her disbelief. She slowly eased the door open further, slinking through the opening.

She was even more surprised with the inside of the room. Dark carpet covered the floors, yet seemed clean and vibrant compared to outside. There were a few things ground into parts of the carpet, as if a child had dropped their chips and stepped on them by accident. Wooden furniture sat contently around, a dresser with a large mirror on it resting along the adjacent wall. She closed the door quietly behind herself, surveying everything else around her.

There was a door to her right, opposite the dresser. It was closed, and Jill figured that she would search through it last if she could not find the object she was looking for. Her best beat was that it happened to be a bedroom.

Walking past, the living area opened up further. There was a lounge room, medium sized for an apartment, the carpet still stretching out and holding the same feeling about it. There was a sofa set on it, a three seater. An armchair was next to it, and both faced a coffee table and a TV set. A mantel piece sat above a large fireplace, which still happened to be stocked with wood. It looked like it had been lived in recently, which was quite surprising. Curtains were drawn over large windows on the other side, where the carpet sunk into tiles of a kitchen.

Stepping forward, she could see that the tiles were still clean, as if they had just been scrubbed clean less than a week earlier. A bench top, fridge and stove inhabited the area as well as a sink. A few magnets were pinned up against the fridge, some of them holding up drawings that appeared to have been done by a child. Close to the fridge was another door, one with wooden letters strewn upon it.

Curiousity was beginning to get the better of Jill, taking more at ease steps towards the door to get a closer look. The wooden letters were painted in different colours, decorated with Glitter and stickers. 'Z', 'O', 'E' and 'Y' were lined up unevenly, no doubt spelling the name of a little girl, one who would have lived there some years ago.

"Funny…" Jill mumbled to herself, "… It seems nicer than my own apartment."

She smiled softly and shook her head, knowing that it was no time to wonder about the inhabitance of the house, even if they had been living quite cozily before moving out. Why _had_ they moved out, she wondered.

"Hey! Who are you?"

Jill shrieked, quickly turning around and grabbing onto the bench to support herself. He caught her breath, though still remained quite shocked. Standing near the Sofa was a little girl; four or five would have been her guess. She had the light green eyes Jill herself envied greatly, blond hair in two plaits, wearing a simple cotton dress. She wore no shoes, only white socks. It took Jill a few moments to notice the black camera that hung around the girl's neck, attached to a colourful looking strap.

That little shock had done very little good for Jill's less than enthusiastic thoughts of children.

"W... What are you doing here, little girl?" She stuttered, managing to regain herself. It seemed like more than a fair enough question given the place and the circumstances. The young girl tilted her head to the side, placing her hands behind her back.

"I liiiive here." The little girl smiled broadly. She happily walked over to Jill, who was still more than a little jumpy and grabbed her hand. "I'm Zoey! And what about you? You don't live in the building, do you?"

Jill shook her head and refrained from taking her hand back from the small child's hold. "No, of.. Of course I don't." The whole thing didn't make any sense – Lived here? Perhaps the child thought of this place as her little play ground. Before Jill could answer, there was a bright flash in front of her eyes. She blinked quite a few times, only then seeing that 'Zoey' had decided to assult the poor woman with the camera flash.

The little girl looked over her camera, waiting for the photo to pop out. Impatient, she let it be for a moment and looked towards the door.

"Did you come in a little while ago?" She asked, "I think you let a draft in, it's freezing!"

Jill only managed to mumble a few sounds in answer before Zoey grabbed her hand again, dragging her over to the sofa. She shoved Jill lightly, hinting for the woman to sit. She did as such, too confused to respond in any other way.

Zoey rubbed her hands together, trying to add a bit of warmth to her body. She quickly took a glance at the fireplace, as if just remembering about it. She raised her hand to shush Jill as she once again tried to make a statement, before running over to it. Sitting close by to it sat a box of matches, the only thing in the house that appeared to be gathering dust.

The little girl picked it up and blew off the dust, and Jill could only watch her from behind as the girl busily lit a match. Soon enough, the fireplace lit up, and Zoey walked over to the arm chair next to Jill.

"So, who are you? You didn't tell me!"

Jill rested her hand on the cushion beside her, breathing out softly. She was beginning to feel a little more at ease – It was beginning to make a bit more sense. The tiles were probably cleaned by the little girl's mother, the carpets were clean but showed signs of mess because, well, the little girl had been there for some time.

"My name's Jill. Sorry for not introducing myself, Zoey… I'm in a little bit of a rush, dear." Jill explained, though savoured the small time of rest she was allowed.

Zoey crossed her arms over the arm of the chair, leaning over to look closer at Jill, inspecting her. Jill couldn't quite place what was so odd about her to be surveyed as such.

"That's alright!" Zoey smiled, seeming as content as any other child. "What are you in a rush for? Are you looking for someone?"

Jill nodded softly, taking a glance at the fireplace. She could see a few sparks jump up from the wood, bits of ash drifting out of the fireplace and darkening the carpet ever so slightly. Smoke was rising up, and Jill wondered how people would react to seeing smoke come from such a place. From what she could remember, this place was supposed to have been abandoned- Having not taken in tenant for years.

"Yes. I'm after a man, and it's very important that I find him, quickly. So I hope you don't mind if I have to leave very soon."

The young girl frowned at that hopping off of her seat and rushing over to Jill, once again taking her hand and holding on quite tightly. "You can't leave! You just got here, after all! Rest, please! Don't go yet!" Jill raised her hand to hush the girl, noticing her bottom lip quiver before she went on, trying to keep Jill talking, "Is it a bad man you're after? Are you a police woman?"

Jill nodded, seeing no reason to answer 'somewhat'. Zoey's eyes lit up as she gasped upon seeing this. The smile returned to her face again, and she jumped up and down on the spot. "Really? That's so cool! Police women are awesome!"

Jill smiled softly caught off guard once again by the little girl's response. Her hand was free in a few moments, as the little girl bounced up and down, walking over to the fireplace. "Hey! Can you have a look at these, please?"

Jill reluctantly rose from her spot, taking a few steps over. The little girl pointed to the mantel piece, at the photos sitting on top. She wearily grabbed a photo, looking over it. It was a lovely picture, a photo of Zoey and a younger woman, sitting in the very lounge room. Zoey looked younger, by a year at least. Jill quickly concluded that the older woman was her mother, happy to be in the photo with her daughter.

"That's me and my mummy." Zoey explained, proving Jill quite correct. "It was from a little while ago, you see. I want to take a photo of mummy now, but she doesn't like photos anymore. I want a photo of mummy on the mantel piece again."

Jill mumbled a soft sound of understanding, placing the photo back where it had been. She turned to go back to her seat, but she felt her boots slip – shifting the wrong way on the soot below, and she quickly felt herself lose her balance.

"_F-Fuck_!!"

It happened too quickly, not even giving Zoey any time to grab Jill's hand to try and help her. Before she knew it, Jill's eyes couldn't see anything past fire – Flames licking up, cast in an orange and red glow.

Was this how it was going to end? No blaze of glory, no sacrifice, just an accidental slip into the fire?

"… Doesn't… Doesn't it hurt…?"

Jill's hand gripped the wood, her eyes adjusting just enough to see Zoey's horrified look in front of her. The question finally registered, past Jill's panic. She once again swallowed hard, and she took a quick glance around. Yes, she was in the fireplace- And yes, it was still very much alight.

But there wasn't even the slightest hint of pain – Nothing other than the uncomfortable feeling of wood under her arse. Jill shook her head, but soon realised that Zoey wouldn't be able to see that.

"No… It doesn't…"

She stood up, surveying herself. There were no burns, only ash on her hands – She was dry, now, no dampness in her hair or her clothing. She was fine – There wasn't a single burn on her body.

Zoey once again gasped, placing her hands over her mouth. "You must be a ghost!" She shook her head furiously, looking at Jill once again in amazement, "You're a ghost, Jill!"

Jill looked over her hands. That couldn't have been right, could it? Not unless she _had_ fallen down those stairs, and she _had_ broken her neck. But how likely was that? Suddenly she felt herself become more confused than ever. This didn't make any sense, no sense at all.

"You're a police woman and a ghost… You're a Ghost Police-Woman! That's really cool, Jill!"

Jill looked at the little girl strangely, once again surprised by the little girl's openness to the whole concept. Wasn't the whole thought of it frightening to her?

"I have to go tell mummy! Maybe I'll be able top get a photo of her, too!" Before Jill could stop her, Zoey had dashed out of the lounge room and towards the room Jill had chosen to ignore. She heard the sound of the door opening, and Zoey calling for her mother.

"… What's going on? … Did something happen to me?" Jill asked herself quietly. She couldn't die here, not yet. Not when it had just begun. She would never forgive herself if that had been the case. Far too many things would be left unanswered. She took paced steps towards the entrance once more, taking a glance at the mirror.

Well, she was still visible in the mirror, that was a good thing, wasn't it? … No, no reflection was vampires, wasn't it? But ghosts too, maybe.

Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed what was behind the door. It could just be seen, thought the reflection of the mirror. The door behind her was open, giving view into the bedroom. It was darker than the other rooms, the wallpaper quite dark and gloomy. The furniture in it was thrown about, part of it seeming broken. Jill just noticed now the bad condition of the door, but it did little to draw away from what else was inside.

Sitting on a bed, which appeared to be in a real mess, was Zoey's mother – Or what would have been Zoey's mother at one point. A bright flash from Zoey's camera as she talked to her illuminated the features, as well as brought a haunting chill down Jill's spine.

The image of decomposing flesh will do that to people.

Jill rested her hand on the gun on her belt, now visible without the many layers of jackets, and continued to watch. Skin had rotted from the woman's face, the side of her jaw very well visible. Some of her clothing appeared to be just as rotting as she was, barely holding onto the remains of her body. The nails were yellowing, and the bones could be seen peeking out of the flesh here and there. Her skin was darkening, much like the corpses Jill had seen in her life. The woman's hair was knotted, messed, a train wreck just like the rest of the woman.

Jill breathed in sharply, taking a step away from the mirror and turning to the door. Taking a step forward, she slipped her hand to the wall, flicking on the room's light.

Zoey glanced back at Jill, a smile on her face and still holding the camera in her hands. She appeared quite happy to see her 'ghost' friend, and completely ignorant about the state of her mother. Why hadn't see been _attacked_ yet?

"So you're Jill?"

Jill jumped, visibly shocked by Zoey's mother. She had spoken, moving all the visible muscles in her jaw to do so. Clearly the woman could see Jill's response, her dying eyes looking towards Jill's belt, and her hands still resting on the weapon.

"You're the 'ghost'?" Her voice held sarcasm with the last word, making it very clear that she knew the situation, and that Jill was very much alive. "… You don't need to use that. I very much have my mind, dear."

Zoey took one more photo of her mother before quickly having the camera snatched off of her. She looked pleadingly at her mother, requesting the item back with her eyes and pouted lips. Receiving no answer, she sniffed loudly, and ran out past Jill and back to the lounge room.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I'm not used to…" Jill began, at a complete loss of words. Her hand still tightly gripped the handle of the gun, ready just in case what she had originally expected would take place.

"I'm sure it's unnerving for a young woman such as yourself." Zoey's mother mused, looking to the ground. "… That daughter of mine. She doesn't seem to understand how I look at the moment. I don't personally understand whether it's because she doesn't care, or because she doesn't see it."

Jill breather quietly, trying her best to calm her heartbeat back to an acceptable speed. It was no easy task, proving to be one of the hardest times to even attempt it. "How long have you been here?" She asked carefully. "… Why's she want those photos?"

"I have no idea." Zoey's mother answered, looking back at Jill. "To both… The photos, I think it's because she's missing something."

With the conversation slowly drawing on, Jill could feel herself becoming more comfortable in the company of the decomposing woman, as strange as it sounded. "… What would that something be? I mean, if you know and don't mind me asking."

"I have a feeling," The woman sighed, shaking her head, the cracking of her action causing Jill to squirm just a bit, "It's a photo."

"A photo?"

"Of her father. I threw it out some time ago… But, that's of little importance to you, no isn't it? What are you here for, Dear?" The mother asked, Jill taking down quick notes in her mind about it.

"I'm looking for a key. One to the gate that seems to be blocking the bloody stairs." Jill explained, kicking the ground as she did so. The whole situation infuriated her. Zoey's mother appeared to think that fact over for a moment, knowing something about it.

"The second door on the right. If I remember correctly, the owner had a key to that. Each floor had a tenant who had the job of locking the roller doors. If you need the key, go there."

Jill nodded in a sign of appreciation, smiling a small bit. "Thank you very much." That was great – Hadn't she knocked that door twice without it budging? She would just have to try harder, then. She turned, ready to leave.

"Oh, Ms. Jill."

She looked over her shoulder, puzzled about whatever else there could be for her to her from such a woman. She clearly had her own problems to deal with, if that wasn't already obvious.

"… Take care."

Jill smiled a bit brighter, before replying with a quick 'You two' and walking out of the room. She shut the door softly behind her, feeling what felt like pity for the poor woman behind the door. She looked to the exit next to her, taking a deep breath.

"Jill! Wait!"

Jill felt a hard tug on her pants leg before she looked down. There, unsurprisingly, stood Zoey, clasping something tightly in her hand. "You're… Leaving already? Then I want to give you something!"

Before she could protest, a cold metal object was placed in Jill's hand. Zoey pressed Jill's fingers, forcing Jill to hold it in a similar fashion she had been. It felt like a thing chain, something else pressing against her palm along with it.

"Please take it with you? It's a good luck charm."

How could she turn down the little girl's gift? Especially considering what had just happened. The girl had no idea that she herself and her mother were no longer of the living. She gave a nod, seeming to be doing that a lot that one night.

"Alright, I'll take good care of it Sweetheart. If I find something nice, I'll give you a present too."

Zoey beamed and nodded, simply waving goodbye as Jill walked out of the apartment.

Jill's back sunk against the door, feeling her legs give out from under her and letting her slid down to the ground. She looked up at the ceiling, old and worn with stain spots, and was quickly reminded of where she was. However, that gave her no relief to the discomfort that began to overcome her once again.

"Really now… Am I in a ghost house or something? This is insane! Zombies are one thing, but, my god…." She managed to rise to her feet, leaning on the door to support. How was she going to get out of this? Maybe she should just go get help – This… Could she actually do this on her own?

She breathed heavily, staggering over to the exit. She placed her hand back on the doorknob and gave it a light shove.

Nothing.

"Oh… You're **fucking kidding me**!!"

Jill slammed her fists on the door, continuing to curse. What was happening? Now she couldn't leave? This was just becoming absurd. Was she honestly meant to be believing all of this?

She turned her body and kicked the door, hard. It gave no movement, just like the other doors. She growled lowly, looking off to the side. Mailboxes, Garbage chutes, they were of no use to her.

One moment.

Peering closer, she spotted something peering out of the garbage chute. White edged, dark backing… She took a few long strides over to the garbage chute, cautiously grabbing the white object. She flipped it over in her free hand that lacked the chain handed to her. Sure enough, displayed on it was a man she didn't recognize, and Zoey beside him. Bingo.

Jill steadied the photo with her fingers before looking in her other hand – It was a gold chained necklace that had been handed to her, a small pendant hanging from it. Carefully, whilst still holding the photo, she unclipped it and placed it around her neck – Upon her return, she didn't want to offend Zoey by not wearing it.

"I have a little job to finish before I take on that bloody door again." Jill muttered to herself, swiftly heading back to the door of the single open apartment and walking back inside.

"Did you find me something already, Jill?"

The young girl's giggle made Jill smile, a strange thing to cause an equally strange response from her. She wiggled her fingers slightly, the one holding the photo carefully. She held it forward after a few moments, in front of Zoey. The girl tilted her head to the side, a little confused. She took the photo from Jill, looking over what had been given.

The little girl gasped loudly, before looking back at Jill with a wide smile. "Jill! This is my daddy! Where did you find this?!"

Jill tapped the side of her nose, placing her other hand on her hip. "That's a secret. The things that matters is, you have it now, right?"

The girl nodded quickly, seeming happier than the last time Jill had seen her overjoyed. The little girl continued to bounce on her feet, and kept making staggered movements as she tried to figure out which way to run. Eventually, she turned and sprinted into her mother's room, calling our for her. "Mummy! Mummy! Look what Jill found for me!"

Suddenly, a bright white light filled the room. Jill quickly covered her eyes, trying to turn away – It was blinding, and the sudden appearance of it startled her. When she could see again, she was outside the apartment, once again sitting on her arse. She groaned as she got up, feeling that area getting tender and figuring it would no doubt bruise if she had a similar fall.

But what had happened to her? What about Zoey and her mother?

She grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it – But the only opening door now failed to obey her command. She looked on, stunned beyond belief. Had she been knocked out? Had she fainted?

Suddenly, a loud click could be heard – Like a lock unlocking; one she was not familiar with. She looked over to the doors on the right, and suddenly it dawned on her. No matter how many questions she were to ask that day, they would not be answered unless she moved on. Zoey and her mother were both deceased, but with that lost item…

Jill looked up, trying to look past the ceiling – The paint, the wood, everything… Her eyes were set on something completely different.

"What's the matter? Can't be bothered sending and angel down for this, huh?" She barked, clenching her fists tightly, "I can see exactly what you're doing, I'm not some lackey of yours! Do you hear me?! Damn it!!"

She kicked the door in a similar fashion to the front door. She knew what she had to do next – Another door awaited her before she could get that god forsaken key.


	3. Jill: Roots

A/N;

For some reason I really love listening to the movie Rosemary's Baby while working on these, haha. Oh god, I love that movie so much…

Sorry this took so long, Dit, haha... On a happy note, at least you were the only one actually waiting for an update on this, haha XD? Now wathc as I spend days waiting for reviews that won't come, XD

Resident Evil; The property of Capcom, not me.

* * *

The heat of the next room hit her like a ton of bricks. Shifting from excessive cold temperatures to startling heat could not be good for her body at all. The darkness itself seemed to disappear, replaced with the gleam of an invisible sun – There were no solid walls to block it, other than the one holding the door she had entered through, the whole room appeared to be constructed of glass.

"This certainly is a new one…" She muttered quietly, raising her hand in an attempt to shield her eyes from the light. Her hand shifted away from the doorknob, feeling it only gain heat, and staggered a few steps into the room.

She managed to adjust quite quickly, at least with the new lighting problem. The heat still put a fair bit of stress on her body, but she soon found the reasoning behind it.

Moving her hand away from her eyes, she was able to get a good glimpse at the large, rather cluttered area in front of her. Various tables were set forward, lined up evenly but in such close proximities that it made the area feel almost… Claustrophobic.

Although all seeming to be placed with care, assortments of all kind of garden pots and trays were stretched out from top to bottom of the tables. Each table appeared to be sorted out by some sort of category, whether it was by type or flowing, Jill couldn't tell – Plants had never really been her thing, she had always simply admired them from afar.

Various tubes and piping appeared to lead both to and from the plants, the ground under some of the connections as well as the tables soaked from leaks that had been sprung. She could see more than one plastic tube that was busted and was spewing a spectacular amount of water onto the leg of one of the tables.

Minding her step, Jill moved towards one of the tables, letting one of her hands light down on the edge. Her fingertips simply glided across it, the gloves she wore doing a considerably decent job of rejecting the water entry through the fabric.

But with this, she once again realised how scorching the weather was inside the greenhouse. Glancing upwards, she could see no ceilings, no a source of shade other than what little space was below the tables. Shaking her head and glancing back down, she raised her hands to her neck, stripping off the scarf she had yet to discard and dumping it on the side of the adjacent table.

Slipping off her gloves, she concluded that the last thing she needed was to suffer from a very avoidable case of heatstroke. Placing those onto of her scarf, she began walking once again whilst she unzipped her last jacket. She simply wore a long sleeved T-shirt underneath, not the best pick for such a place, but better than what she had entered with.

Slinging the jacket over her shoulder, she could finally concentrate on what was around her. She could recognize a number of plants, but she certainly couldn't name them or determine one from another with ease. Half of them looked like variation of Aloe Vera, and just looking at them was beginning to do her head in.

After her experiences in the police force she half expected to find less than legal plants. Many of the plants clearly put in efforts to reach up high or out past the edges off their potting arrangements. The plants themselves looked like they were healthy and thriving.

All except for one, it would seem. As Jill walked past each of the tables, surveying each inhabitant of the pots, a browning, wilted plant caught her eye. It stood out, quite clear against its vibrant brethren.

Gently, Jill raised her fingers to it, skimming them softly across the bottom of one of the leaves. It did not appear to like this in the slightest, practically crumbling into pieces. Drawing her fingertips back, she noticed the peculiar structure the poor thing, trying to imagine it in a far healthier state. The base had what would have been thorns, though were now far less than intimidating. Segments of it seemed nearly like vines, clinging desperately to the sides of the pot plant. Large, dying leaves reached upwards, flow bulbs hidden here and there between all sections. Just like many of the others, she couldn't quite place it.

"I just can't get the one to grow."

For the second time that night, a sudden, unwelcomed appearance caused Jill's heart to jump in her throat. Quickly she turned around, hands on either side holding onto the table behind her in an attempt to keep herself from collapsing.

Rather than a little girl greeting her, a middle aged man stood instead. He looked less than pleased with Jill's reaction, giving a glare once her hands had touched the table. Her initial shock allowed her more time to survey him, very similar to the way she had with the plants.

She did envy what he was able to wear in the heated room. Khaki shorts, white singlet shorts, a thick pair of gardening gloves… She couldn't find the will to look at his feet, though she would have only noticed dark coloured gumboots. She barely took any notice of the sunglasses perched on top of his head, somewhat hidden in his short, light brown hair. She hated simple things like sunglasses now because of that traitor…

"Be careful, don't you damn well knock that over!" He warned, snapping Jill from her surprised state and back into reality… If that was what she could refer to it as. She cleared her throat, and quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry, but you shouldn't sneak up on people like that." She explained dryly, yet staying on a cautious edge. He appeared normal enough, very true, but so had Zoey. The chance of her knowing whether he was alive or dead wasn't something easy to figure out. However, given the area, the latter seemed far more likely.

"You shouldn't be sneaking around someone's Greenhouse." He snapped, looking away from her. She did her best to hide her annoyance at this, rather trying to stay on track and get out of the dratted place as quickly as possible.

Taking a glance at the plant, and a glance back at the man, it didn't take a genius to work out what was expected of her. Or, at least she hoped – If she was wrong, she would feel like more of a moron than she had in some time.

"Listen, I'm sorry – Clearly this is not my place to intrude." She lowered her head somewhat, empathizing her point a fraction, "But while I'm here, what's the harm of letting me take a look at your plant with you?"

He eyed her suspiciously, the glance in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. His eyes were somewhat hollow, ghostly – They seemed very fitting, and left her with no doubt that the fellow was a member of The Walking Dead Society.

"There is a lot of harm, little miss. I'm sorry, but you're not going to touch my plant…" He stated lowly, though Jill could tell from his voice that he had no guts to actually do anything to prevent her interference. She looked behind herself, noticing a small trolley, about the size of a small chair. Not being too picky, that was exactly what she used it for.

She setting down, resting her arms over her knees and waiting for the man to elaborate. Naturally, the statement was peculiar enough as it was – The object in question was a plant, not some sort of fragile artifact. Though, taking into consideration the state of the plant…

"Let me guess, you're trying to figure it out, huh?"

Jill simply nodded.

"That plant there," He gestured towards the wilted plant lazily with his hand, "I have no idea what it is."

"Why do you have it?"

He shrugged simply, glancing at the plants resting on the other tables before back to her. "All of these plants here… They're all every day garden plants. You can find them anywhere, there's nothing spectacular about them… They seed, they grow, they bloom, and they die. But this one over here…"

He slowly took steps over to the table, resting his hands just in front of the pot. It gave Jill a different angle of him, just the slightest more of a glance. She could have sworn she could see something out of place at the back of his neck, but couldn't see well enough.

"I don't know. I've just always felt like there was something different about it." He sighed, shaking his head. He stared intently at the plant, thinking things over in his mind that Jill wished she could hear. It would most likely answer so many questions about the current situation.

"If you don't know what it is, how the hell did you get your hands on it?" Jill asked curiously, standing up from her little perch. She saw him hesitate for a moment, very cautious about divulging his information about the dying life in front of him. He sighed lightly, once more shaking his head.

"I picked it up from this old plant seller down the street. It was meant to be an import, but I couldn't find any information about it when I looked up the name." He explained, taking the same bitter tone that Jill had been using often that night. Without warning, he slammed his fist on the table, making a few of the lighter objects resting on it jump up and come down quickly.

Jill raised her hands as a motion for him to calm down. The last thing she needed in this apartment was a pissed off ghost – She had no idea how to handle something like that. "Alright fella, what's wrong? It's a plant; there's gotta be a way around this."

He mumbled a few things under his breath, turning his back to her and walking down the aisle between the two tables.

And that gave Jill more than enough view to see what she had thought she saw earlier.

Sure enough, there were dark red bloodstains on both the back of the man's head and neck, trickling down his back and staining that once white shirt of his. While it seemed to fade as it went on, the source of it still remained dark and very simply deep. His hair was matted and dyed around the region, flattened and clumped around torn skin. Said skin looked like it had been severed and torn from a quick but powerful blow.

Of course, Jill couldn't exactly tell what could have done it from where she was – And something told her he wouldn't take kindly to being closely inspected from behind, having fingers poking and prodding at the opened wound. If she did go doing that, she was sure she would end up making contact with his exposed brain.

Jill took a glance at the plant once more, before back at the others. He had spoken the truth – It was certainly different. "Alright, fine. Tell me then, why didn't you just go about asking people if they knew about the plant? They might have been able to help."

The man paused, clenching his fist, shaking his head before laughing in a mocking way. "See? You just proved that you wouldn't get it!" He turned around, surveying her reaction. He received none, seeing her concentrating too intently on the plant, "_That _plant right there? No-one's seen anything like it!"

Jill glanced up at him, nodding slightly. "I get it now. You didn't want to tell anyone, because you didn't want them to _take it._ Correct?"

He mumbled something in a displeased tone, looking away from the young woman's gaze. Oddly enough, it was as if stepping on her toes would be the last thing he should do, even if he had much more knowledge than her thanks to passing years.

"Listen. You can pretty easily tell that I don't know the first thing about one plant to the next, except for knowing that this one looks fucked up compared the rest of them here." Jill began sternly, narrowing her brow to glare at the dead man. "So let me help."

His mouth gapped open to question her, but by the look of her stance and of how she had acted so far, it was a no brainer that such an attempt would be useless. She was as willing to back down as a starving panther from the leg of a dying animal.

Hm. Somehow such an analogy, although odd and feeling misplaced in ways, seemed to fit quite well with the young woman. Finally, he relented. In his own way, at least.

"Do whatever you want." He mumbled gruffly, turning away and walking off, "I've tried everything there is _to_ try, and you aren't going to scare it back to health, that's for sure."

Jill huffed at the remarked, before turning back to the plant at hand. It had perked in no way since her last glance at it; however, it did not appear to have wilted any further. Dying was a long and arduous process for plants, it would seem, and she found herself pitying it. Scattered around it were bags and small pails of assorted things one would use to attend to a plant. Some were filled further than others, traces of the substances messily staining and lingering on the table.

From the corner of her eye she spotted a bag with rather bold text labeled across it – 'Blood and Bone'. She grimaced slightly. In truth, she had no idea whether such a thing was indeed made out of ground bones and blood, but she recalled an occasion where one of her neighbours in the apartment building copped a great deal of strife. It seemed the front lawn's care taker and put such 'Blood and Bones' down on the lawn the previous day to help the plants grow stronger, only to find that said neighbours dog had found the stuff delicious; proceeding to dig up all the flowers and scoff down what it could.

Suddenly she felt her heart sink. Very suddenly indeed, she felt homesick. A strange feeling – By her estimate, she had only been gone perhaps an hour. Maybe in the back of her mind she feared never getting out of this place.

She put it aside, slipping on an abandoned gardener's glove. The last thing she wanted was to contract some sort of disease or bacteria from any of the fertilizers - especially from that horrible-smelling Blood and Bones mix.

She slipped her hand into one of the pails, carelessly throwing the content onto the roots of the plants – At least the roots she could get to.

"Be careful with that!!"

She rolled her eyes, now tired of the deceased she was supposed to be helping. She did her best to mix it with the soil, giving up not too long after – Grabbing the contents of a bag adjacent the pail and throwing it in, _much more carefully._

"I've already tried that!" The disgruntled voice called loudly, causing Jill to grunt in frustration.

"Listen, just back off and let me work!" She called, slamming a fist on the table. The action caused the tools and assortment of other objects spaced out across it to jump some distance into the air. This time man rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath.

She looked back to the plant, contemplating what she could possibly do. Staring at the rather hidden roots once more, she quickly came to the conclusion that she couldn't mix things particularly well. Not without an electric beater, at least. Perhaps that was why Chris was always first to kidnap the bowl of cake-mix when she was trying to cook during lunch break. She would get him back later for that.

She glanced at all of the utensils sprawled out – There were some small spades, a few of those odd fork tools Jill couldn't name, some sticks and… Blood, plenty of blood. She hadn't noticed it with the assorted pot mixes, but concentrating now, it was a rather disturbing image. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the ghost man tend to a different plant. How much had he bleed? … How much was he willing to have sacrificed for this plant?

Now was not the time to think about it. She would ponder later. She let her ungloved hand wonder idly towards the tools, to feel around for the correct thing to use.

She gave a sudden, high-pitched yelp, whipping back to see her hand before drawing it close to herself. She whined, inspecting a fresh cut on her hand – A single slither of wood poking out from it. She cursed loudly and glared at one of the mixing sticks, tugging the cause of pain from her wound. Not one to accept defeat, she gabbed the stick with her same hand, plunging it into the soil and stirring it around the areas where the roots hadn't overgrown. Not and easy task, and a soft trickle of blood dripped down from the cut, down the wood.

It finally dawned on her that helping this case would not be such an easy task. It would take weeks to even notice if the mixture was having any affect at all.

She winced again, her cut stinging a great deal. She raised hand and pressed her finger to her lips, sucking her skin gently. Damn, for such a small cut it was bleeding like a bitch. She was reminded why she had demanded all floors in her apartment be either carpeted or tiled.

"Hm?"

Something was different. Very, _very_ different. Thought the green, on just the tip of one of the roots, was _green._ She paused, before quickly drawing her hand from her mouth.

"You've got to be kidding me…" She breathed. She swallowed hard, knowing that there was really only one way to find out. Cautiously, she grabbed one of the small spades – Its edge was sharpened, as if to help dig. Cautiously, and rather hesitantly, she brought it to the palm of her hand, digging the blade in rather deep and dragging it across her skin.

That was one of her problems – Jill was a real bleeder. Her blood never really wanted to clot in good time.

Yet amazingly enough, as the hot red liquid trickled down the leaves, so did the green slowly return to the plant. The colours, vibrant and alive, springing back to the dying plant. Slowly it curled upright, the small vines lashing towards Jill's hand.

She gave a startled gasp, quickly drawing her hand away and stepping back before it could hook onto her. She once more looked away towards the man, who appeared to have taken no notice.

"H-Hey!" Loudly, her call stretched across the large room to him. He looked over, and with her injured hand to her chest, she pointed her free hand towards the plant. Blatant, there was no other way she could inform him of her discovery. "Blood! That's what the fucker needs, blood!"

She was shoved out of the way before she could take a step away from the path – Narrowly avoiding a sharp corner protruding from the adjacent table. The man had shoved her rather hard, and she was quickly becoming tired of the 'ghosts can touch me' rule within the building.

The man had both hands firmly on the table, and was simply gawking at the plant. Nothing need to be said, and indeed, Jill said nothing. She turned on her heel, she walked to where she had put down her things earlier.

She muttered, grabbing her scarf and reaching for her jacket. How ungrateful this guy was, but she couldn't blame him. So much time and finally the answer, he must have been over the moon.

Her fingers just managed to tickle the fabric of her jacket before, abruptly, she felt her body grow weak, and became aware she was losing consciousness. As she hit the ground, all she managed to see was white.

And with that, she was out like a light.

The light slowly faded, and just like before, Jill awoke outside of the door. She could still see stars, a dazed feeling still lingering about her. Lying on her back, rather than painfully landing on her behind this time, she carefully pushed herself up. Rubbing the back of her head, she winced at the pain the contact caused. Quickly moving her hand in front of her eyes, she was thankful to see no blood.

Must have just been a bump.

She stood up, but soon staggered forward, suddenly feeling incredibly light-headed. Clenching her teeth, she rested on the door, her legs some quickly strengthening again. A few moments passed before the sensation left her head, and allowed her to move freely again.

"What was that about…?"

She could only mumble the words and wonder, lacking any form of clue to answer her inquiry. Soon after, that now familiar click rung out, echoing through the cold hallway. Looking off towards the previously unopened door, she could only be thankful that it was the last one she would have to tend to. She was cut short doing this, however, realizing something in the area had changed. It was now far darker than it had been when she had arrived, which was quite a feat. She could barely see in front of herself, the room only lit by stream of light seeping in from a higher, thin window.

She could only put the source down as moonlight, small images dancing through it. She had no time to inspect it, however. She had a mission to complete, and just one door away from getting a key. Or so she hoped.

* * *

Ah, was anyone else reminded of Little Shop of Horrors? Dang…


End file.
